


Bad Dreams

by cardiac_arrest



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Supernatural Elements, look i dont know what i wrote okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardiac_arrest/pseuds/cardiac_arrest
Summary: The man snorts again. “You can tell me.”The grass crumples under Mitch’s hand. The man reaches over and grasps his chin firmly but without too much force. He turns Mitch’s head towards him so he’s staring into those fiery, glowing eyes.“This is my territory. You listen to what I tell you to do.”Mitch sneers. The man releases his chin with a push. Mitch tastes iron and copper in his mouth. He tongues at the cut in the bottom of his lip and rips a piece of skin off with his teeth.“Why do you care?”





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> listen to bad dreams by joywave. the lyrics dont have much meaning, but the mood of the song does. 
> 
> might continue this. maybe.

Mitch sits at the edge of the riverbank, feet submerged in icy cold water. The lazy current bubbles over his bare feet. His skin blooms blue and purple, prominent under near-translucent skin. It hides most of the mottled bruises. The pale green ones are a lost cause. Mitch thinks it looks kind of cool. Kind of like a painting. 

 

The wind tussles his hair. Mitch can’t see very far into the distance; it’s so dark. A leaf flutters down from a nearby tree and lands on his exposed shin. It’s too green to match some of his bruises. Oh well, Mitch thinks. It makes his body all the prettier. 

 

Mitch looks up at the sky, catching the bright white stars glistening against the stygian stretch of space. They’re clearer during the summer. Mitch wonders why the stream is so cold. He stares down at the river. He points his feet and fumbles around in the water. The rounded surface of pebbles brushes past the bottom of his feet. They’re colder than the water. 

 

He turns his head to the left, fingers clenching the soft blades of grass underneath his hands. There’s a small black object in the ground. Mitch squints a little, forcing his eyes to adjust to the black blanket of night. The image of the object sharpens. It’s a rose. Mitch is about to reach out and grab it before an unusual breeze ruffles his loose shirt. 

 

“What’s wrong, little boy?” a strange voice breathes into Mitch’s ear. He flinches and his arm tucks into his body. 

 

Mitch’s body is tense. He tries to look at the person speaking so close to him. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah. No peeking,” the voice smirks. It stops Mitch dead in his tracks. He doesn’t say anything. 

 

He feels movement beside him. “You can look at me if you tell me why you’re here.”

 

Mitch frowns. He fingers at the scab on his left arm unconsciously, wiping away the trail of blood that leaks down his wrist when it opens up. He clenches his jaw and shrugs. 

 

“Look at me,” the voice commands heavily. The phrase is said with so much force that Mitch has to turn his head. He catches sight of burning red eyes and wicked horns. He whips his head back down quickly, back to the quick rush of the stream. 

 

The man—creaturemonster _ thing _ —chuckles. It vibrates in the marrow of Mitch’s bones. It’s sinister and dark and foreboding, but Mitch likes it. “Are you mute?” 

 

Mitch glares without any thought. “Are you done?” 

 

The man laughs loudly. It’s a surprised kind of noise, as if he wasn’t expecting Mitch to answer the way he did. 

 

“Feisty. Tell me what’s wrong.” It’s an order. 

 

“Why should I?”

 

“Because I said so.” 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

The man snorts again. “You can tell me.” 

 

The grass crumples under Mitch’s hand. The man reaches over and grasps his chin firmly but without too much force. He turns Mitch’s head towards him so he’s staring into those fiery, glowing eyes. 

 

“This is my territory. You listen to what I tell you to do.”

 

Mitch sneers. The man releases his chin with a push. Mitch tastes iron and copper in his mouth. He tongues at the cut in the bottom of his lip and rips a piece of skin off with his teeth.

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“It’s my territory. _You’re_ on my territory.” His tone is dark. 

 

“I think you know why I’m here.” 

 

There’s a glint of sharp white teeth under the moonlight. Blood wells up on Mitch’s lip. It pools and drips down his chin. He’s about to wipe it away with the bottom of his discoloured shirt when a warm thumb presses down on the wound. It hurts a little, but Mitch is too stunned to do anything. The small amount of liquid is swiped away after a second. Mitch follows the movement of the man’s thumb up to his mouth, where the blood is cleaned off with a quick suck. 

 

“Tangy,” the man grins pointedly. “I’ll see you around, kid.” 

 

Mitch isn’t a kid. He’s eighteen. 

 

There’s a quick gust to Mitch’s right. 

 

“Who are you?” Mitch asks. He couldn’t stop himself. 

 

This time, Mitch can hear the pointed edge of apical canines spread in a cocky smirk in his voice. 

 

“Call me Auston.” 

 

The sound of crunching twigs resonates through the clearing. 

 

Mitch wiggles his toes in the water. The water feels warmer. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading you guys. comments and kudos are always appreciated. come yell with my on tumblr @mitcheemarns.
> 
> this was so choppy. whooppppsssss.


End file.
